Taste this Truth
by Morgana's Cat
Summary: Early Seasons AU. Mary, tired of Edith's superiority complex, decides to show her once and for all... and asks Tom for driving lessons! What will happen during their many hours spent together? Bit OOC, but in an amusing way. Title likely to change.
1. Chapter 1

For the past month, Edith had been crowing about her proficiency behind the wheel, so much so that Matthew was beginning to seem quite fascinated. The way she told it, Branson had hardly taught her anything, as she was naturally gifted at driving. Robert had even given in and complimented her efforts, which merely inflated her ego to such a size that Mary's snide remarks on the unladylike behavior of driving oneself could not diminish it.

It was beginning to get on Mary's nerves. What was so special about controlling a mechanical carriage? She simply had to do something about it. She would have to learn how to drive and become even better at it than Edith, so that once more she would be the superior one in the family… and have Cousin Matthew's attention again.

She stormed out to the garage, scarf fluttering behind her, and burst through the doors, startling Tom from where he was poking at a car's underbelly with a wrench. She posed dramatically, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"Yes?" He peered out from under the car.

"I need to speak with you." Mary said primly, clasping her hands together.

"Alright," Grabbing a rag, Tom stood up, swiping grease off his hands. "How can I help you, Lady Mary?"

"You've been teaching Edith how to drive." Mary stated.

"Well, not anymore. She thinks she's got the hang of it now." Tom nodded.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Don't you agree with her assessment?" If Edith wasn't as good as she claimed, Mary could easily surpass her skill, and she would once more be the best at everything either of them attempted. She suppressed a cackle of glee.

"Not to be rude, but it's only luck she doesn't crash some days."

_Yes_! Mary exclaimed inwardly. Clearing her throat, she said "Thank you for being honest, Branson. I can sincerely promise not to claim my lessons are finished before you approve of my talents, if you like."

"Well, alright, if you really want to." Tom's voice sounded skeptical.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you'll excuse me, my lady, your disparaging comments towards driving, not to mention myself, have not escaped me." Tom scowled.

"Perhaps I've changed my mind about cars. You'll have to change my perspective on your personality yourself." Mary declared, smirk twitching at her lips.

"You'll hear more than a few impassioned speeches before you're done learning everything about me." Tom said warningly.

"I'm sure I can survive." _What am I doing? Letting the chauffer talk back to me! Gracious, I'm getting soft. _She thought, tilting up her chin. "Now, what time tomorrow?"

Tom glanced over her appraisingly. "After you finish breakfast."

"I'll be here." Mary spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving a surprised Tom in her wake.

_Perhaps I underestimated her. _He thought, turning back to the car. _This is certainly going to be an experience. _


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Mary was up bright and early. She had Anna dress her in her loosest corset and slimmest dress so that she would not have to concern herself with being uncomfortable or accidentally tangled herself up in the car's workings. Perching her third-most elegant hat on her head, she grabbed her purse and headed down for a bite to eat.

Flouncing into the dining room, she saw that she had been beaten downstairs by both Edith and Robert. "Gracious, Edith. I never thought I'd see you up at this time of day." Mary said snidely, filling her plate and slipping into the chair closest to their father.

Edith scowled. "I'm going to help a farmer with his tractor. Ever since I became so proficient at driving, I've become quite popular. Isn't that right, Papa?"

Robert barely glanced up from his paper. "Yes, my dear."

Mary flicked a loose hair of her shoulder, replying, "I happen to be starting driving lessons today. We'll have to see how quickly I'll be able to surpass your meager skills."

"The Great Lady Mary Crawley behind the wheel? Please, you'll give up the minute Branson tries to teach you the difference between the accelerator and the brake." Edith snorted derisively.

"Well I never!" Mary glowered, clattering her teacup into her saucer. "I won't sit here for another moment and be insulted! I'm heading out to the garage right now, and I'll last longer with Branson than you did! You stuck with your lessons for one month? I'll see him every day for six!" She shoved out her chair and stormed out of the room, leaving a seething Edith behind.

**-x-**

By the time she reached the garage, Mary had calmed considerably, her anger leaving behind only resolute determination. "Branson?" she called out, peering around the car blocking her view. Ah, there he was, leaning deliciously against a table, eating a sandwich with his green livery over one arm and shirt half-buttoned, allowing her to see his well-muscled chest… Wait! Did she really think _deliciously? _Shaking her head, she approached him. "Branson?"

He spotted her then and choked on his sandwich. "Lady Mary!" he coughed.

Not knowing what possessed her, Mary grabbed the mug of tea next to him and pressed it into his hands, and smacked the palm of her hand between his shoulder blades. "Are you quite alright?" she asked anxiously. It wouldn't do to accidentally kill the man who would help her in her eternal battle against Edith!

Choking down some tea, Tom coughed some more before speaking. "I'm sorry; you just startled me. I didn't think you'd be out so early."

"No need to apologize." Mary backed up a few steps. "I had a little spat with Edith over breakfast and I thought it best to start right away."

"You two really dislike each other, don't you?" Tom caught her surprised glance. "She kept grumbling under her breath about finally beating you at something."

Mary smirked. "That sounds like Edith. I don't know how you stood it."

"We didn't talk very much. I just gave her instructions and she attempted to follow them, and I yanked the wheel away before we crashed into anything." Tom started buttoning up his shirt. Mary instantly resented the loss of the view.

"I'll try to be a bit more cautions than she is."

"I'd appreciate it." Tom shrugged on his jacket. "Shall we get started? I'll pull the car out of the garage and then you can get in and take us down the driveway and back a few times." He pushed open the main doors, letting the morning light stream in. Mary moved off to the side and watched closely as he started the car and backed out of the garage. Parking it, he jumped out and waved her closer.

"Could you give me a hand in, please?" Mary requested. Tom helped her adjust her dress so that it wouldn't get tangled in the pedals, and carefully explained what each one was used for. It seemed quite simple, but Mary was wary. "I suppose that this is the easiest part, and once I get on the road it'll all get much more intimidating?" She raised an eyebrow.

Tom laughed. "If you find this simple you'll do well, my lady. Your sister couldn't keep them straight. She kept mixing up the brake and the accelerator."

Mary's polite smile turned somewhat gleeful at that. "And here she was taunting me at how difficult that was! Why, they're in two entirely different places."

Tom smiled back. "That's what I thought, my lady. You seem ready to head off now that you've got the basics. Ready?"

Mary nodded eagerly, and Tom slid into the car beside her. "Where should I place my hands on the steering wheel?"

Tom reached across in front of her, taking her hands in his. A slight tremble went through Mary at the feel of his bare flesh brushing hers. Tom noticed.

"Are you cold, Lady Mary?" his eyes crinkled in concern.

Mary recovered quickly. "No, I just realized I don't have any driving gloves. Perhaps we should do this another day."

"You don't have to have gloves to drive. We're not going too far." He said, amused at her sense of propriety.

Mary bit her lip. "Oh, alright. But tomorrow you're taking me into York to get a good pair."

"You could buy a perfectly adequate set in Ripon, you know." Tom said, somewhat sarcastically.

Mary tried to glare at him for his impertinence, but for some reason she couldn't stop smiling. "I want Italian ones, not some shopkeeper's idea of decency. You'll come with me and help me choose, as you are a chauffeur and ought to know these things. You'll have to wear a suit."

"My suit isn't in your class at all, but alright. You can drive part of the way to York on the less busy bit of road. It'll be good practice."

"That's settled then." Mary said. "Now show me how to drive down the driveway and back."

"Very well, my lady."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm going into York with Branson today." Mary said to Anna as she dressed the next morning.

"What for, my lady?" Anna began lacing up her corset.

"Italian driving gloves," Mary turned, surveying herself in the mirror. "Tighter, Anna. What if I run into someone I know? Lord Merton doesn't live that far away." _And the expression on Branson's face is sure to be interesting. _

"Very well." Anna pulled the strings taut. "I suppose you'll want to wear your blue dress, then?"

"Yes, and my new shoes."

"I'll get them out, my lady."

Mary ended up dressed quite stylishly. She had bought this particular outfit from a French dressmaker in London, and the skirt ended right above her ankles, showing off her little white leather shoes. It was a little excessive for just going to York, but she couldn't resist. After a hurried breakfast (thankfully, Edith hadn't come down yet), she went out front to where Tom was waiting with the car.

"Good morning," Mary smiled at him as he helped her into the driver's seat. "You clean up nicely." His suit was carefully ironed, and though a little old, fit him quite well. _He looks a tiny bit dashing, _Mary thought to herself.

"Thanks," Tom smiled back, closing her door and letting himself into the seat beside her. "Anna fitted it for me last night, and ironed it this morning."

"Isn't she a darling? I'll have to thank her." _That was very thoughtful of her. _Mary thought.

"She is." Tom nodded. "Now are you ready?

"I'm just driving until we reach the main road, then you'll take over." She sighed. _He didn't mention my dress. Wait, why do I feel so disappointed? It would have been entirely inappropriate if he had. _

"You'll do fine." Tom said reassuringly, thinking her sigh was caused by nerves. "Just concentrate."

Mary drove them safely to the crossroads, about a half-hour trip. They didn't see any other cars on the road, and Mary's driving was flawless.

"You're quite proficient already, my lady." Tom commented as Mary pulled over. The car jerked as she applied the brake, and he laughed. "We just have to work on your parking."

"It wasn't that horrible." Mary said as he helped her slide over to the passenger's side. "I just need a bit of practice."

"We can do that later." Tom started the car and pulled into the main road. "For now, just watch how I make turns and behave around other drivers. Sometimes by just paying attention to how someone else does something you can learn more than by doing it yourself."

Mary hmm'd noncommittally. "What made you decide to be a chauffeur?" she asked, curious. "You're intelligent; you could've become a journalist, or done something political in Ireland."

Tom shrugged. "I'm strong, and I've always been good at mechanical things. Besides, my brother owns a car repair shop, and I guess I just sort of got swept up in it." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think you'd do, my lady, if you weren't a lady?"

Mary stiffened. "I couldn't imagine life without Downton. To me, that would be the end of the world."

"You really love it here, don't you?"

"Yes," Mary inclined her head, "but it's more than that, too. Downton _is _my life. I was raised to be its caretaker, and if I had been a boy, it would be mine to maintain and pass on to the next Earl. But…" She sighed, trailing a finger against the car door.

"The laws aren't fair." Tom finished for her with a grumble. _She is much more complex than she lets most people see. _He suddenly felt grateful for her revelation.

"No, they aren't fair." Mary whispered, then shook herself out of her sulk. "But life isn't fair either, and it still goes on."

"That it does." Tom replied. They sat in silence the rest of the drive.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **At last comes the beginning of the scene that spawned the bunny for this entire fic! I hope you enjoy!

**-x-**

Tom pulled up in front of a little boutique in York advertising women's accessories, parking the car with ease.

"Are you sure you want me to come in with you, my lady?" he asked.

"Of course you're coming in, Branson." Mary said impatiently. "You'll tell me if the gloves I select will do the job or not. Now help me out."

Rolling his eyes, Tom opened her car door and lifted her down. For the first time, he noticed her dress. "I must say, my lady, you look quite elegant."

Mary stared at him, surprised. "Thank you. I didn't know if you'd notice."

A small amount of color rose in his cheeks. "Shall we go in?" he opened the store's door, holding it for her.

"Oh, yes." Mary strode in, immediately locating an assistant. "Where are your driving gloves? Italian, please."

The saleswoman ushered them over to a small table where several pairs of gloves were laid out. Tom stood awkwardly behind Mary, wondering how she expected him to behave. She was currently sliding on a dark blue pair that complemented her outfit.

Turning around, she asked, "What do you think of these?"

He held out a hand. "May I see?"

She placed her gloved hand delicately in his. Somehow, the moment felt electric. Tom shook himself. "They're very pretty, but see here." Tom turned her hand over, palm up. "There's no padding, and the leather's thin. I can feel the heat of your hand through the glove, even though there are so holes so it can breathe. You'll be quite uncomfortable after a while."

Mary scowled at the saleswoman. "Why would you stock barely functional gloves? These are hardly durable for driving; it's as if a woman's clothing is only supposed to be decorative!"

"These are the newest shipment from London!" The woman spluttered.

Mary lifted an eyebrow. "And here you said they were Italian." Pulling the glove off and dropping it back on the table, she turned away saying, "Branson, we are going to a haberdashery!"

He hurried out the door after her. "Do you even know where one is, my lady?"

Mary paused in her march down the street. "There's one right here." She gestured vaguely at the silver sign above a brick-front building. "'Miller and Sons.' Sounds fine to me. I'm sure some men have small hands."

"Very well." He waved her in the door. "If you say so."

Mary spotted the gloves section and headed over without bothering with an assistant. "Italian at last. How are these?" she held out a small black pair.

Tom looked them over. "Perfect, my lady."

Mary smiled. "They fit well too. A bit loose, but that won't be noticeable once I get used to them." She headed over to the register. "These, please."

The clerk simpered at her striking presence. "I don't think these will quite fit your husband's hands, madam. Shall I fetch a larger pair?"

Mary straightened up in indignation, prepared to give her most intimidating 'I am Lady Mary Crawley' speech. Tom, noticing her expression, quickly laid a calming hand on her arm.

"It would be best not to make assumptions." He sent the clerk a placating look. "The gloves are for the lady. Please wrap them and we'll be on our way."

The man nodded nervously, hurriedly tucking the gloves into a package. "Five pounds, please."

Mary paid him and took her package, glaring all the while. She opened her mouth to deliver one final stinging statement when something to the side caught her eye. A dark haired man stood off to the side, discussing watches with an assistant. She gripped Tom's arm in bewilderment.

"Larry!"


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **What am I doing with my life? Three chapters in a day? Gracious, I must lust for reviews… *cough* hinthint *cough* Anyway, this is the chapter that came to me in one of those dreams you have when you're half awake, and it started this whole story. So you'd better like it! ^.^

**-x-**

Mary thrust her package into Tom's arms, adjusted her hat, straightened the lapels on his suit, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and pinched her lips tightly together, all in less than ten seconds. Leaning into him, she hissed in his ear. "That's the _Honorable_,"-her voice was loaded with sarcasm-"Larry Grey. Do everything I tell you and go along with what I say."

"Who's," Tom started, lost for words.

"My godfather's eldest son," she whispered, "and I have to talk to him for that reason. Follow my lead." Plastering on a pleasant smile, she sashayed over to Larry. "I didn't think I'd see you here. What brings you to York?" she inquired politely, calmly taking in Larry's startled face as he turned around.

Tom was amazed at her act. If he hadn't witnessed her original reaction, he would've thought she and Larry were childhood friends.

"Well, well," Larry said haughtily. Tom instantly disliked his tone. "If it isn't Lady Mary. I'm out in this awful wilderness to visit Father."

Mary gritted her teeth, but kept her smile locked on her face. "How is your father?"

Larry ignored her, turning to her companion. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Mary thought fast. _Branson, Branson. Is there any nobility with that last name… I can't let Larry continue to behave so snobbishly, he'll only insult me and give some disgusting report to his father! Branson! There it is! Last two generations all girls, lost money and title to relatives. _She smirked, confident.

"This is Tom Branson. You know the Branson family?" she raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. Tom carefully hid his confusion.

"Ah, yes" Larry smiled nastily, turning to face Tom. "Tell me, how does it feel to lose your title to a fourth cousin?"

Tom's eyes widened and he glanced at Mary desperately. _What on earth?_

"Larry!" Mary exclaimed. _He's gotten even worse than before. I can't stand this any longer. _"That was entirely unnecessary. Tell me how your father is and then I will leave you, as you obviously don't want to speak to either of us."

"Father's fine." Larry sneered, turning back to the watches without further acknowledgement.

"Good. Give him our best. Come on, Tom." She tugged him out of the shop.

Once on the street, Tom turned to Mary. "What on earth was that all about?"

Mary sighed. "That was Larry all over. He's not usually that bad. We used to play together as children… if you can count being taunted and being pushed into things as playing. His father is a sweet man, though, so I always make it a point to talk to him, whether or not I particularly enjoy the experience. As for all the Branson talk—we would have never gotten out of there alive if he knew you were the chauffeur, and I really didn't feel like dealing with that today." She shook her head.

Tom patted her hand that was still tucked into his side. "I understand. We all have ghosts in our pasts."

"He's more of a bothersome poltergeist." A smirk twitched once more at the corner of her lips.

Tom laughed. "I'm glad to see your sense of humor has returned." His heart fluttered a bit when she grinned at him.

"It never left. I was declaring him an impotent bat in my head even as we exchanged pleasantries."

Tom snorted. "I second that classification. Now, would you like to head home or stop somewhere for lunch?"

Mary paused. "I _am_ hungry. Let's walk a few blocks that way and find a tea shop."

"Are you sure that wouldn't be inappropriate, my lady?" Tom teased daringly.

"It is entirely inappropriate, but I'm upset, no one knows me here, and Larry thinks that you're a disinherited lord, so it doesn't matter." Mary said, voice strained with exhaustion. _I really ought not to, but I deserve a treat after putting up with that awful man. _

"If you insist."

"I do."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **I've put up a poll on my profile for who you want Edith, Sybil, and Matthew to end up with! Pretty pretty please vote? It'll help me out a lot!

**-x-**

They ended up seated across from each other in a little family-run tea shop, nibbling on finger sandwiches and tea cakes. The other customers took no notice of them; the setting was quietly middle-class and peaceful.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Branson. I would have hated to eat by myself after a run in with that man." Mary smiled at him over her teacup.

"Not at all, my lady." Tom glanced around the dainty shop. "I must say that I've never been anywhere quite like this before."

"Nor have I." Mary replied. "It's a bit small, but it's cozy. I quite like it."

"Where do you usually eat when you're out with family, then?" Tom asked.

Mary gestured vaguely. "Oh, just slightly more elegant cafes, I suppose. It's not proper to eat dinner at restaurants, although certain tea shops are appropriate."

His gaze turned curious. "Your people sure do have a lot of rules."

"Yes," Mary said, "I suppose we do. But I grew up with them."

"Do you ever get tired of it all?"

"Do you ever get tired of your life?" Mary shot back then sighed. "That was harsh. Yes, I get tired." She trailed her finger around the edge of her saucer. "Though it's better than the alternative of losing one's place in society."

Tom nodded, face softening in understanding. "I may dislike how the English think of the Irish, but I'd rather be Irish than anything else."

"Exactly," Mary grimaced. "I don't think I could be happy in any other position, so I put up with the unpleasantness." _Gracious this conversation is getting personal. _"I suppose we'd better start heading home." She gestured at the waitress and paid, and the pair headed silently back to their parking spot. "Shall I drive halfway again?"

"Sounds good to me," Tom helped her into the car. "You can try out your new gloves. Just let me get us out of York."

"Very well." Mary sat back and began unwrapping her package, mentally preparing herself for her turn on the road that was steadily getting busier.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Remember to please cast your vote for the pairings! I really care about what you think! If you don't want to vote, you can always comment with suggestions! I write for the feedback, you know! ;)

**-x-**

It had been a month since their trip to York, and Mary's driving was steadily improving. Seeing Tom for an hour everyday promoted companionship between the two and while their conversations never grew as personal as they did in York, an understanding developed. However, Mary could not forget her original intentions in learning to drive, and they did _not _include being entranced by an attractive chauffeur. Edith was only growing more conceited as their neighbor Sir Anthony had invited her to take a drive in his new car (after several blatantly inelegant hints at her superb driving expertise.). On this particular day, she was busy boasting loudly over luncheon at how impressed Anthony would be that later that week.

Mary interrupted yet another mention of her sister's invitation with a loud sigh. "Really, Edith, you do choose the odd ones. Sir Anthony will likely go on about sheep forever, and when you inevitably crash his new car, he'll bleat away like one!" she snickered.

"Mary!" Cora exclaimed as Edith gasped in offence. "I'm sure your sister is perfectly capable at handling herself."

Robert groaned. "Only I wish you two weren't so insistent at all this driving business. It's terribly unnecessary. I'm just grateful Sybil isn't taken up with it too—which, now that I mention it, is quite surprising. She's usually the first to start up with modern insanity."

Sybil shook her head distractedly. "Oh, I just have other things to busy myself with, I suppose." She quickly turned back to her plate.

Mary could not help but notice her relative silence. Now that she thought about it, Sybil had been suspiciously quiet recently. _She must be scheming something Papa would disapprove of. _Mary thought. _I'll have to confront her after dinner this evening._

The day passed quickly, and soon it was time to dress for bed. After Anna tied a ribbon at the end of Mary's braid, she reached over to blow out the oil lamp, but Mary caught her hand. "Wait a moment. Could you stop in Sybil's room and send her to me, please?"

"Yes, of course, my lady." Anna backed away and soon Sybil was slipping through her door.

"You had Anna fetch me?" she asked, confusion wrinkling her forehead.

Mary tugged her down on a chair beside her. "Yes, darling. You've been so distracted lately; won't you tell me what you've been up to?"

"Darn," Sybil blushed. "I was hoping no one would notice, but I suppose you do find out everything." She squeezed Mary's hand. "I've been sent the most interesting pamphlets from one of my friends in London—do you know that there are going to be some political rallies over the next few months? I'm dying to attend one and hear the speakers and really get the feeling of the modern times." She caught the shocked look on Mary's face. "Oh, Mary, please, please don't tell Papa! I've been trying to find the best way to bring it up. I might just attend one of the last ones, but I want to go ever so much, and Cousin Isobel thinks it's a brilliant idea and said that she would take me if she felt up to it."

Mary pursed her lips. "If Cousin Isobel provides such a ringing endorsement to anything, I'd be sure to do exactly the opposite as fiercely as possible! What on earth compels you to become interested in _politics_!?"

Sybil sat up straighter, frowning. "You shouldn't be so mean to our cousins! And besides, you're being quite hypocritical. Don't think I didn't see you pick up that socialist paper last week in Ripon!"

Mary turned red and spluttered, "That was for research purposes! We happen to have a very vocal chauffeur, and I needed information to refute his points!"

"So now you're speaking with the staff, hm?" Sybil leaned back smugly. "You're not as much of an example as you pretend to be."

"Darling…" Mary sighed, defeated. "Fine, I won't tell Papa, but you must notify him eventually."

"Oh, thank you!" Sybil leaned over and kissed her sister on the cheek. "Now may I go to bed?"

"That's all I had to say." Mary patted her shoulder. "Goodnight, dear."

After Sybil left, Mary grumbled and dropped her head into her hands. Now she would have to do something she knew she would end up regretting—attend one of these 'rallies' and assure that her baby sister would be quite safe at such an event. "Oh, the joys of having such a headstrong child to protect…" She rubbed at her temples. Didn't she have enough on her plate already?


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Remember to vote!

**-x-**

Tom noticed Mary's distraction as she almost crashed into a tree the next day. Leaning into her side, he jerked the wheel out of her unprotesting hands. "Alright, tell me what's wrong." He steered them over to the side of the road and pulled the emergency brake. "You've never been this out of it before."

Mary groaned and ran a gloved hand over her face. "I need a favor."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Judging by the fact that you're asking instead of demanding, it must be pretty important."

"You may actually enjoy this one, it's me that won't." Mary said.

"Go on," he nudged her shoulder.

With a heaving sigh, Mary replied, "Sybil's been talking about these political rallies and now she's threatening to go to one. So while under normal circumstances I'd rather go to the stake than dip my toes in politics,"—Tom interrupted her with a laugh—"You'd better drive me down to watch one so I know what my little sister's getting herself into."

"Well that's not much trouble," he said, but tacked on a warning: "They can get a bit rough sometimes, though."

"That's what I'm worried about. I want to see what precisely happens at such an event so that I can warn her against it if I must."

"Did it ever occur to you that you may be a bit overprotective?"

Mary scoffed. "It's my baby sister. And don't pretend that you're not longing to come."

"You've got me there." Tom winked. "Seeing the Lady Mary Crawley at a radical London protest? Priceless."

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth but she forced it back down. "You may choose the speaker; it just has to be sometime this month."

"I'll grab some pamphlets when your father has me bring him to London on Wednesday."

Mary turned to him quizzically. "Papa's going to London?"

"Yes, he said something about Canadian railroad investments."

She frowned. "I know he only sees me as a little girl, but I wish he'd tell me these things."

"You could buy some books on investing and then surprise him with your knowledge on the off chance he hints at something." Tom suggested.

"That sounds like an awful lot of work for a minuscule reward."

"Think of it this way: if you research it before Lady Edith does, you'll have something else to lord over her."

"You're teasing me." Mary mock-pouted.

"Maybe a little," he said, smirking.

"You're really not supposed to, but somehow I don't mind." She admitted.

"I don't like being bossed around, but I don't mind it when it's you." Tom said, gaze lingering just a bit too long on her lips.

Mary felt heat rush up her neck, and she quickly turned away. "We should be getting back."

"Yes," Tom breathed.

Mary didn't move to start the car. They both just sat, Tom staring at Mary, and her eyes locked on the scenery.

"Tom?" she broke the silence.

"What?"

She dug her fingers sharply into the steering wheel and stopped herself. "Never mind." She turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road.


	9. Chapter 9

After an interminable dinner on Wednesday where Edith repeatedly declared how impressed Sir Anthony was with her driving skills (Mary was sure he was just being polite) and Robert was decidedly reserved in answering questions about what _exactly _he spoke to his lawyers about, Mary slipped off to the garage to consult with Tom about their upcoming excursion.

Tom was waiting for her, perched on a stool and perusing through a handful of pamphlets. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps and smiled, making her heart flutter a little. "I didn't think you'd be done so soon."

Mary shrugged, dropping down onto a chair beside him. "Edith was droning on about Sir Anthony again, so no one batted an eyelash when I made my excuses early. How was London?"

He dropped the papers on the workbench and spun to look at her directly, noting her elegant red dinner dress. _Dhia, she's stunning... _his thoughts travelled down a road he definitely did not want them on. Hauling himself back to the present, he recalled,_ She asked me something._ "Nothing like Dublin," he grinned as she rolled her eyes, "but your father disappeared into his office for a good three hours so I managed to get a hold of some pamphlets. Are you sure you want me to choose? There may be something you're interested in."

Mary scoffed. "Me, interested in politics?"

"I just thought I'd ask." He replied mischievously.

"I'm sure there's someone you want to hear, so give me the date and I'll tell the family I'm going hat shopping that day." She said, trying and failing to sound unamused.

"There's one two weeks from now, actually." He poked at one particularly grimy paper.

"How long do these things typically last? And what exactly happens?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"You'll only want to stay a few hours at most. This particular gathering is about Irish freedom, and they should have several different speakers."

"I should have known." Her smile was almost fond. "What should I wear?"

"Something you don't mind getting scuffed up. Hardly anyone of your class attends this sort of a rally. And don't forget what I said about it maybe getting rough." He shook a warning finger in her direction.

"I'll simply depend on you to get me out safely." She said, lips curling up coquettishly.

He unconsciously leaned closer, making her breath catch. "I'll keep you safe, my lady."

Her eyes flickered down to his lips and back. "You'd better, or Papa will have your head."

Tom pulled away. "He would, wouldn't he."

Mary suppressed her disappointment. "He's a good man; he's just stuck in his ways. It's worked for him so far."

"The world is changing, though." Tom clenched one of his grease-stained fists.

"Not fast enough." Mary sighed, standing up. "Goodnight, Branson." She said softly, and, turning away, left him alone in the garage. _Why can't the world be just a little different? _


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **So I've received a few comments that make me feel like I have to be very blatant: **This is a Mary x Tom story. It is 100 percent Brary in every way. **In this story, they are soulmates or true love or what-have-you. So even if Mary ends up with Matthew (and she might not) she's going to be _in love with Tom. _If that turns you off, there are plenty of other fics. Cheers!

**-x-**

Two weeks later, Mary was speeding across the countryside to London. Tom sat directly next to her, hand clutching at his hat, which unfortunately, was not pinned on like Mary's was. Yelling over the roaring engine, he declared, "We should've taken the car with a roof!"

"But isn't this exhilarating?" she shouted.

"Just slow down by the time we get to Birmingham and we'll coast the rest of the way there!"

He barely heard her tinkling laugh, but he certainly felt her hand come off the steering wheel to squeeze his thigh for a moment. As she pulled away, he wordlessly caught her hand in his and interlaced their fingers together. She sent him a questioning gaze laced with a blush, and he excused himself, saying, "It's good practice to learn to drive one-handed."

She smirked knowingly, but did not object. They stayed like that until they reached London.

**-x-**

Parking outside a church Tom assured her was only a block away from the rally, Mary adjusted her dress and slipped her arm through his. "Just so we don't lose each other," she said haughtily.

Tom didn't contradict her. "Of course, Lady Mary."

"You might as well call me Mary when we're not in company." She held her breath, waiting for his reply.

"Mary," he said simply, and led her into the crowd standing before a large schoolhouse.

She stared around at all the clusters of people, mostly men, loitering around the doors. "Are we early?"

"No, I think more people showed up than expected so they'll be holding it outside."

"You mean we'll have to _stand_?" Mary exclaimed.

"Afraid so. We'll just stay an hour and then leave for lunch—how does that sound?" He tried to appease her.

"That sounds good, although I hate to have you miss a speaker because of me."

"Not at all," he squeezed her arm with his free hand. "I'd rather be with you anyway."

Mary blushed, but was saved from having to answer by the first speaker arriving at the top of the school's steps. Under the crowd's applause, she asked Tom, "Do you recognize him?"

He replied, mumbling a name she couldn't quite make out. _Something Irish. _She shrugged and went back to listening. He spoke for about ten minutes, listing the day's topics and speakers, and then stepped down, allowing a man Mary vaguely recognized from one of her father's newspapers up on stage. There was a lot of yelling and she didn't understand most of it, so she turned her attention to Tom instead.

His eyes were focused on the speaker and he nodded at some points and frowned at others. The curve of his lips entranced her, and she could not help but think of what it would be like to trace them with her own. He murmured along as the speaker quoted some philosopher, and she watched the muscles in his neck move, longing to plant kisses on each one. _What have I done to myself? _She wondered. _How can an infuriating chauffeur of an Irishman have such a sway over me? _She traced the wrinkles on his suit with her first finger. _I adore him, and I can't even remember why. _Suddenly, the crowd roared, stirring her out of her reverie and she noticed that the speakers had changed. _Gracious, I must have been distracted for the better part of the hour. _She glanced around the crowd, seeing that the street had grown even fuller since their arrival. _It really hasn't been so bad. A bit loud and packed, but Sybil should be perfectly safe with Cousin Isobel. _No sooner had she thought this than a burly man standing in front of her screamed something obscene in Irish at his neighbor, and Tom dropped her arm to wrap his around her waist.

She looked back up at him, startled, only to see his face tight with distress. "What is it?" she asked him, apprehensive.

He kept his gaze locked on the pair of angry men. "This is the bit I warned you about." He flicked his eyes down to hers for the tiniest bit of a second. "They might settle down, they might not…"

"Let's wait just a moment, and if they start throwing punches we'll get out of here."

"Sounds good to me."

The men's voices grew even louder, drowning out the speaker. The crowd shifted to glare at the pair and another man tried to get between them.

"Ey, there, mate, don' do anythin' you'll regret." He poked the bigger of the two in the chest. Face contorting in rage, the thug punched him in the cheek, sending him reeling back into an even larger man, who sent a kick at the first, and chaos erupted around them.

"Time to go!" Tom shouted, pulling Mary back from the violent mess. She stumbled after him, but her heel caught on a cobblestone.

"I'm stuck!" She screeched, yanking at his arm. "My heel!" As he leaned over to tug at her shoe, a ruffian came careening directly at her. "Tom!"

With a final jerk, her heel popped out of the stone, and Tom appeared before her, fist cracking into the man's jaw. Without looking to see what became of him, they sprinted back towards the car, threw themselves in, and Mary backed out with a squeal of tires.

She kept her foot on the gas pedal until they were a good five blocks away from the scene, and came to a stop before a random little tea shop. Turning off the car, she collapsed into Tom's chest. "Oh, Good Lord."

He cautiously wrapped his arms around her trembling form. "You're alright, aren't you? He didn't touch you?"

"No," her lips moved against his neck and he could not contain his gasp at the sensation. By some miracle, Mary didn't seem to notice.

Sighing, she continued, "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"I did make you a promise, Mary." He pressed a kiss into her hair, holding his breath.

_His chest rumbles when he talks. _Mary curled herself closer, reveling in the comforting sensation. "That you did, Tom."

He pulled back slightly, and traced a trembling hand against her cheek. "Mary, I…"

Without warning, she surged up, pressing her little red mouth to the corner of his lips. "I don't know what to say," her words ghosted against his skin, "but you mean so much to me, and I don't know why it took me until today to realize it."

"Near-death experiences tend to do that to a person," he attempted a dry chuckle, but it died in his throat.

"Nonsense." Mary sat up straight and pushed herself out of his arms. "I never doubted that you would save me for a second."

"Of course you didn't," he smirked, falling back into their easy argumentative pattern.

"And why should I? You're my knight in chauffeur's livery." She raised an eyebrow.

"And you're my lady in blue feathers." He flicked a finger at her hat, causing said feathers to quiver.

She smiled then, a genuine beaming smile. "Shall this lady treat you to lunch?"

"Sounds almost as lovely as you," he laughed, and helped her out of the car and into the tea shop, eyes locked with hers all the while.


	11. Chapter 11

They sat across from each other in a scene reminiscent of their luncheon in York. The calm, tidy atmosphere of the shop, with its little tea cakes and delicate cucumber sandwiches, contrasted so strongly against the scene they had just fled caused them to burst into hysterical chortles whenever Mary and Tom glanced at each other. "Ssssh!" Mary pressed her (ungloved, for once) hand against his mouth. _His lips are so soft. _"You'll set me off again!"

"I can't help it!" he retorted, pecking a kiss on her fingertips before pulling back. "It's so absurd!"

Mary choked back another laugh. "If anyone had told me that anything that happened today was possible, I would've had a fit!" She took a deep breath. "But I'm very happy things are this way." Through her eyelashes, she peeked up at his expression.

"I'm very happy too," he said simply, waiting for her to make the first move.

_I can't do this, not now. _Mary chided herself. Changing the subject, she said, "You did a wonderful job, socking that hoodlum in the jaw like that. I don't suppose you'd show me how?"

"To fight a man one-on-one?" Tom looked shocked. "Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say!"

Mary shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't see why not. Suppose I had been walking in the village by myself, and someone attacked me? I'd like to know what to do with myself."

He relaxed. "I know that you'd never intentionally get in a tussle. And when you put it like that, I quite agree. We can start tomorrow, if you want."

"Perfect." Mary took a sip of her tea. _I may not be able to do much about these feelings, but surely seeing Tom for a few extra hours won't hurt. _"Nothing strenuous, of course. Just the general idea—there's not much of a chance of anything happening."

"I can show you how to put a man down quickly so you can run for help," Tom nodded. "The important thing is to know your limits and never be afraid to ask for assistance."

Mary smirked. "I hardly think that anyone could refuse _me_,"

He glanced up sharply, dropping his sandwich down to his plate. "No one in their right mind could," he cleared his throat and shook his head. _She wouldn't… I'm being senseless. _

She blushed and drained her teacup. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure," he perched his hat back on his head and helped her back into her jacket. "Would you like to pick up some books on finances while we're in town?"

Rolling her eyes, Mary said, "If you're going to mention it every time we go out, I suppose I'd better. I simply don't know why you're so insistent."

"I can tell you have a good business mind, Mary. See the way you managed to shake off the events of this morning and move on? You could survive bankruptcy with an attitude like that."

"I do wonder what Papa has been doing with all these investments." She sighed. "Downton would have died but for Mama's American money. I hope he knows how to handle things—he's gotten this far, but times are changing."

"They certainly are," Tom ran a hand down the back of her arm as they exited the shop, and his eyes locked with hers.

"But not fast enough," her voice was loaded with meaning.

"No." He dropped her arm. "But things will be different eventually."

Her lips thinned. "I just hope that the world doesn't pass us by, Tom."

"Patience is a virtue," he replied, doubting the saying even as he repeated it over and over in his mind. _Patience. Patience. She will see it, someday. Patience._


End file.
